Another rewriting moment when...

...you realize your manuscript is now over a thousand words past your ending word count, which is cool, but will soon be another 2000 behind when you make your next cut.

Rewriting. It's not just a job. It's an adventure.

That Moment When...

...You realize your word count is 2000 less than it was yesterday. #Rewriting maybe not all that fun after all...

Rewriting as Recreation

My edited manuscript arrived yesterday. I was so excited! Is that weird?

Okay, you know that this is my first book. The first one ever finished and sent to an editor. That, to me, is exciting.

And I'm learning so much through this experience. I'm learning about my writing process, what I need to change, what I do well, and what I need to strengthen. This is a challenge that I can meet head-on, something I have control over and can learn to do well enough to succeed! It's all in my hands.

When I was twenty-something, I wanted to be published by 40. Don't know why I chose that number, but anyway, that was my goal. Then I let life strip away my ambition. Other things took my attention, and I lost sight of it. I didn't start writing again until my early 40's. Even then, I was afraid. I was afraid I wasn't good; afraid of rejection.  So I never showed anyone anything except for some poetry and short stories. I spent my ambition on non-fiction, though it never was something I was really good at, or particularly enjoyed. But I was writing; there's that much.

So I let fear rule my dream. But I finally reclaimed it, and now, roughly a decade after my original goal, I will publish a book this year. Yay, me!

So maybe it really isn't so strange that I'm enjoying the process, rewrites and all.

Tucker brings wine

Sneak Peek #Phoenix Rises

Alison opened the door after peeking through the peephole. Tucker was standing on her stoop with flowers and wine. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“What?” Tucker said as Alison stepped aside to let her in.”

“You want something.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You always bring wine when you want something.”

“Can’t I just bring some wine for us to enjoy?”

“Of course you could, but you don’t.”

Tucker scowled. She took the flowers and wine to Alison’s kitchen, put the flowers in a vase and the wine into a chiller with ice. She turned and put her arms around Alison and kissed her sweetly.

Alison never got tired of Tucker’s kisses. They were deep and soulful and communicated so much in her heart. Alison swept her hands up into Tucker’s hair, then down her neck and across her shoulders.

Tucker buried her face in her hair then moved to her neck and kissed her lightly. Her lips on Alison’s skin made her shiver and she heard a deep chuckle in her ear, which doubled her reaction.

Then Tucker pulled back slightly and looked into Alison’s eyes. “You’re right, I kind of do want something.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, it’s Paul.”

Alison rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. Tucker had told her about some of her and Paul’s escapades in school, and Alison wondered how they managed to avoid getting the crap beaten out of them by some of the more homophobic of their classmates. Actually it seemed that Paul was the instigator and Tucker trailed along to back up the flamboyant youngster.

“What does he want? You two haven’t spoken in years, have you?”

“No, he just got in touch with me today.”

“O-kay…”

“He wants to do a National Coming Out Day celebration. He wants a picnic with drag volleyball and softball, and he’s almost got Pug’s convinced to let him direct a show there.”

Alison did a face-plant in her hand. Tucker pulled her hand away and kissed it.

“It might not be as bad as all that.”

“No?” She turned away and fiddled with the flowers.

Tucker slipped her arms around Alison’s waist and kissed the top of her head. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s one thing for you to help Paul and support this event, but I have to be careful. No one knows me well enough yet for me to go gallivanting around with Paul and his cronies.”

Tucker raised an eyebrow and turned Alison to face her. “Cronies?”

Alison raised her hands helplessly. “You know what I mean. Don’t tell me he’s not planning on bringing the Queens from Pocatello in.”

“Of course he is; he goes up there every weekend. We’re a small community here; it’d be good to have some support from Pocatello.” Tucker realized she was using the same arguments Paul had used with her, but it made sense. “And people like you. You’re good with the kids and that goes a long way around here.”

Alison put her head against Tucker’s chest and tucker put her arms around her again. She tucked Alison’s head under her chin and hummed.

Tucker could hum, though she couldn’t sing after the fire. It wasn’t much more than a growl, but it seemed to soothe Alison and she sighed and snuggled closer.

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

Alison was silent for several moments, then said, “What was it you wanted?”

“Oh.” Tucker cleared her throat. “Paul wants a meeting this Saturday.”

Alison pulled back and looked at Tucker. “Weren’t we going to camp overnight at Cottonwood? There isn’t much more good weather for us to do that.”

“I know.” Tucker ran her finger down Alison’s face. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. He’s calling some of his friends from Pocatello and it sounds like he’s making sort of a party out of it.”

“Meaning everyone’s going to be in drag.”

“Well, not everyone.”

“He’s cutting this thing awfully close,” Alison hitched her thumbs into Tucker’s belt loops. “We’ve got a little over a month to get all the sponsors we need.”

Tucker knew that when Alison said ‘we,’ she’d been convinced to go along. “Well, Wiley Construction can probably sponsor the picnic, and I’ll talk to Joe at Pug’s. The ladies can take care of the show. How does that sound?”

“All right, I guess, but I don’t think it’s fair for you to take on the whole picnic.”

“I know; I’m not that happy about it either, but it’ll only be this time. Then I’ll impress on Paul the importance of proper planning.”

“I suppose that’s all we can do.” Alison stroked Tucker’s face, then turned to the chiller. “Let’s have some of this wine.”

Why do you write?

When I started writing, it was a way to explore some things that had hurt me deeply; dreams that wouldn't die, and wishes that also wouldn't go away.

Writing was for me, alone. Instead of journaling, I turned my life into a story. One might call it an autobiography.

My life turned into more than 400,000 words. It was longer than any of the books in the Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings series, and longer than A Dance With Dragons in the Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin.

Not bragging. The point is we all have our stories and we don't serve the story well by skimping. Make it as grand as you wish it was. The act of writing helps us to create our lives. We see it in our words and they become embedded in our subconscious. We work to make it real.

On the other hand, we write to remove the pain. It doesn't matter if that 'fictionalizes' our lives; but if it serves our story, then we are writing honestly. It's all positive; it's all the act of creation and transformation. It's not fantasy or fiction in our minds, and that makes it legitimate.

Even stories about dragons and wizards reflect our own stories. It's not just symbology; they're archetypes that have inspired wordsmiths for millennia.

I finally wrapped up 'my' story; finally finished it. I brought it to a close, tied up the loose ends that I felt were loose in my own life. But I still had stories to write.

Phoenix is the first piece I've written that reached outside myself. As it progressed, the idea that I could publish it was at first scary, then thrilling. All these years writing for me; now I was writing for others. It kept me fueled. Now I'm plotting and outlining a sequel.

Did I ever think I would publish? I dreamed I would, but never found the courage until now. One of my greatest losses spurred some of my best creativity. Now my goal is to make the next book better; to improve and learn from Phoenix.

Like the Phoenix, I am rising from my own ashes

Envoy Publications

Now that I'm writing and blogging regularly, I think it's time that I resurrect my old publishing name, Envoy Publications. I used to publish a desktop newsletter for the LGBT community here in Sioux City called Envoy. Thus was born Envoy Publications.
There are pages and blogs with the Envoy name on them; unfortunately I've had to leave them behind because of problems with passwords or hacking. I wish I could reclaim them, because they had some really good content on them. Not a problem; I'll recreate Envoy as time moves on.
http://envoypubfeatdlk.blogspot.com/2015/03/envoy.html

It's been an adventure

Phoenix is at the editor's desk and I'm in that place where I wait anxiously to see if the last several months have been worth my time (and my editor's). I've felt many times the story was crap and tempted to give up. I've heard it "Every first draft is crap." I'm counting on that; on having the chance for a rewrite and to make the second draft shine.
So I wait and while I wait, I'm plotting the next book. I have other stories waiting on the sidelines, but Tucker and Alison are still my favorite so I'll continue to tell their stories until they have nothing more to say.
I feel very grateful to the people who have cheered me on and believed in me. 'No author is an island.' Those great friends will be revealed in my acknowledgments.
I talked about the process before. I really don't have any wisdom for you. I had an idea, and started writing. I actually began Phoenix about three years ago. Instead of letting the story carry me through the destruction going on in my personal life, I let the destruction take me away from my writing. I can only be grateful that the story never left me and I was able to go back to it when I realized I needed to write to survive.
That's the process, I guess. When you realize writing helps you keep your sanity and balance in a life that sometimes goes off kilter and makes you feel a little unhinged.
So if that inspires even one person, I feel it's been worth it.
Thank you, my friends, for following along in my adventure